


emerald and lace

by icarusinflight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, M/M, Panty Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-27 17:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: They're expensive and elegant - like Draco - and Harry just wants to touch them.He gets to.





	emerald and lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift from Osiris and I and we wanted to wish you  
>  **HAPPY BIRTHDAY CRYPTOMOON**  
>  Thank you for everything you do for all the fandoms you're involved in. You're such a gift to all of them, to all of us, so we wanted to make you a gift of things you loved. I hope you like the gift.
> 
> Special thanks to both [Nadia the hartless](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com/) and [timothysboxers](https://timothysboxers.tumblr.com/) for the beta'ing. This would not have been possible without the time and effort you both put into it.
> 
> for the beta. You're a babe and I couldn't have done it without you.

It’s an unpleasant day at the office.

Or not office. The day had involved casing out Camden Markets, looking for a lead on a wizard selling cursed jewellery. The case is unpleasant enough as it is, and walking around Camden Markets is hardly how he wanted to spend his day, but it’s all part of his job.

The day is made worse by the fact that despite their time spent in the markets — in the crowded, uncomfortable setting — they hadn't found any trace of the wizard. Meaning they'd either been looking in the wrong place, the wizard had been spooked, or someone had tipped him off.

None of which Harry wants to think about right now.

Instead he turns his attention to his partner — as he is so often wont to do. Watching Draco is one of his favourite pastimes, and he indulges now, as the Auror leans over his desk, peacock feather quill scratching away at the parchment containing his daily report.

Harry's own report form is partially filled out with his trademark chicken scrawl in blue ink — having given up on quills as soon as he'd finished with exams. A blue ballpoint pen will do him any day, and comes with the bonus of being able to blame the pen anytime someone questions the legibility of his writing.

Something his partner always raises an eyebrow at.

Harry watches for a moment more, before leaning over the desk under the guise of writing his own report. He leans in as close as he dares at work; just close enough to allow him to whisper the words, “Come back to mine tonight.”

Malfoy doesn’t respond, just finishes his report with a flourish of his quill, an elegant signature that Harry always thinks matches his personality. He doesn't know if that's Malfoy dismissing the motion, or just ignoring his words. This thing between them is new, and Harry's still treading lightly but so far the only rule has been that they don't talk about it, and they definitely don't talk about it at work.

He’s never been that keen on following the rules though.

Draco’s waiting for him when he finally finishes his report, leaning against the wall outside their shared office in a manner which somehow blurs the line between poised and casual. Only Draco.

The grin on his face is involuntary when Draco pushes away from the wall, falling into step beside him as Harry walks towards the designated Floo tunnels. The sharp look Draco sends him does nothing to taper it either. Harry’s day may have been absolute shit, his feet may hurt, and there’s a dull pain in the knee he injured playing Quidditch, but there’s finally an end in sight to it all.

And that end involves Draco.

The usually quick trip home feels like like it takes an age as they walk together in silence. Harry knows it isn't true, but Harry has always been an _all action_ kinda guy once he’s got an idea in place. Even the normally-not-so-long walk to the Floos feels like it takes an eternity when all he wants to do is push Draco up against the nearest surface and _ravage him._

The fact that Harry keeps his hands to himself for the trip is probably some sort of small miracle, he thinks, when he tumbles through the Floo to his apartment. The wait for Draco to follow through is tense, and it’s probably only a few seconds — not more than a dozen at most — but his mind is brutally aware that Draco never actually _agreed_ to come back to his.

That maybe he’d just been waiting to walk with Harry for some other reason.

Then the Floo roars to life again, and Draco steps out — looking every bit as composed as he had when Harry last saw him.

“How do you always manage to come through so smoothly?” Harry groans in frustration.

One day he might be able to stop himself from just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. Today is not that day.

Draco’s eyes flick towards the roof in a manner that Harry has personally labeled the _‘what have I done to deserve this?’_ expression.

“It’s not exactly alchemy, Potter,” Draco says with derision. “Try lifting your feet when you take a step.”

Harry wants to argue that — he _does_ lift his feet, and that never stops him from tumbling out, but he has other priorities now. Stepping forward into Draco’s space, his hands shoot out to grab at the Auror’s uniform. The material is rough beneath his fingers, nothing like the clothes Harry knows Draco wears outside of work. He tugs on the uniform, using his grip to pull Draco towards him. Draco takes a smooth step, bringing his body to bump softly against Harry’s. His hands come up to Harry’s arms, his grip achingly tight — and Harry doesn’t mind in the least.

He tips his head up to capture Draco’s lips in his own. Draco’s lips are soft, and they taste of the vanilla lip balm he uses. The flavor is so familiar to Harry; so deliciously Draco. His hands drift from Draco’s shirt, slipping underneath to feel his warm, soft skin. One hand holds tight on Draco’s hip, the jut of his hip bone pressing underneath Harry’s thumb. His other hand drifts across Draco’s stomach, feeling the muscles shudder underneath the touch of his fingers.

His hand drifts to Draco’s back as they continue to kiss; Draco’s tongue exploring his mouth as Harry uses the hand on Draco’s back to pull him even closer. He’s already hard: his own cock quick to the party as it always is with Draco. But, when they’re like this, he can feel that Draco is not as unaffected as he pretends to be. Draco rocks in, pressing their erections together and Harry’s responding moan captured between their lips.

Harry’s hand slips lower, fingers teasing at the waistband on Draco’s trousers. He wants more though, wants to feel Draco’s arse underneath his fingers. His hands drift lower with intent, pushing underneath the waistband, seeking Draco’s arse.

His fingers find lace instead.

The shock is enough to make Harry pull away, to break the kiss, although he doesn’t withdraw his hand.

“What —” Harry’s voice comes out a higher pitch than he means, than he intends, and he swallows, trying to get his voice, himself, back under control. He pinches the material between his fingers, pulling it away for a moment before letting the material fall back to Draco’s skin “— what are these Draco?”

Draco now, because they’re away from the Ministry, because he’s in Harry’s arms, because soon enough they’ll be _fucking_ and Harry figures he’s earnt that at least.

“They’re underwear,” Draco says, “I know you know what that is.” Draco’s voice may sound calm, but there’s a blush on his cheeks. The colouring extends down his neck in a way that Harry knows only happens when he feels caught off balance, and Harry knows he’s not quite as composed as he’s portraying.

Still, Harry changes tack.

“I want to see them,” he admits, the truth rolling of his tongue easily. “Please, Draco, will you let me see them?”

There’s a groan, and the grip Draco has on Harry’s arm contracts, squeezing tight. The grey of his eyes barely visible, his pupils blown wide as he looks at Harry. The moment feels like it holds — stretching out for what feels like an eternity, before Draco finally nods.

There’s no question now that they need to get to the bedroom. Harry wants — _needs_ — to see them, and that has to happen in the bedroom. He wants to lay Draco out, see his long, pale limbs draped across his bed. He wants to strip him of his clothes and devour him, and Harry’s not wasting another moment on anything else.

Harry moves them to the bedroom, his hold tight on Draco’s wrist as he tugs him along, shoving the door open, and nudging Draco towards the bed. The clothes need to go, and Harry’s fingers fly to undo buttons and shove aside cloth until the garments blocking his view are scattered over the floor. The clothes are carelessly strewn in a way that Harry knows Draco will disapprove of, but he can’t bring himself to care about that just now. Only when Draco is unclothed, stripped down to his underwear does he slow down, leaning back to take in the sight before him.

And what a sight. Draco is all sharp lines and pale skin. His torso is marred, from the curse Harry had cast himself, from the mark he took when they were barely more than children. None of that’s important to Harry — not anymore. He has far more interesting things to look at; like the only item of clothing still adorning Draco’s body.

The panties are lacy, and thin. Harry can see Draco’s skin through the material, the pale skin almost shining through the intricate pattern. He can see Draco’s erection fighting against the lace, and the flimsy material is doing almost nothing to restrain his cock. The panties are dark green shade, almost _e_ _merald_ if Harry’s not mistaken. The colour is gorgeous and striking against Draco’s pale skin. Green is a good colour on Draco — always has been, but this looks better than any green Harry has seen before. He’s seen Draco in his Slytherin robes, in his Quidditch gear, in any number of greens he wears when he’s not in his uniform — but not _one of them_ looked as good as _this_ green does on Draco.

Harry wants to touch, so he does — reaching out to grip Draco’s hips, fingers sliding over skin and fabric. It’s fine, and so soft, expensive and elegant, like Draco, like everything about Draco. The rough calluses on Harry’s fingers catch on the material, and he feels a shock of guilt that his harshness might damage them.

But not enough to stop.

He pushes Draco back until the backs of his knees hit the bed, legs crumpling to sit on the edge of the mattress. Draco watches him, his keen gazes cataloging each of Harry’s movements as he strips off his own uniform, the discarded clothes haphazardly joining those already on the ground.

He takes his time to look over Draco again, taking it all in, considering his options.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry says, the words coming out without him meaning to.

Draco’s skin flushes, a dark pink against his usually porcelain pale skin. The colour spreads across his cheeks, and travels down his neck, onto his chest and all the way to his nipples. Draco looks gorgeous like this; flushed and wanting. Harry takes a moment just to take it all in, to appreciate the sight before him, to appreciate that he _gets to see it_. When he had first been partnered with Draco he never would have imagined it ending up here.

Harry steps into the open vee of Draco’s legs, spreading them wider to accommodate his body, stretching the lace even tighter over Draco’s erection. He cups Draco’s jaw as he leans down to bring their lips together. The kiss is lazy, sensual, despite the urgency that Harry feels from his own arousal. He likes to kiss Draco, loves the feel of his lips beneath his own, loves to lick slowly into Draco’s mouth. He gets caught up in it, so much so that by the time he pulls away, his head is spinning, and he brings his other hand to Draco’s shoulder to steady himself.

Draco isn’t looking much better — his lips are swollen and red and _gorgeous_. It’s the look in his eyes though that makes Harry gasp: pupils blown with lust and something else — something Harry thinks he might feel himself.

It’s too much — and he can’t hold the gaze, so he drops his eyes from Draco’s, drifting down again.

And catching again on the green lace.

The idea pops into his head and Harry can barely restrain the groan, and his dick twitches at it.

“I want to try something new,” Harry tells Draco. “I want to taste you, I want — let me... let me eat you out Draco.”

Draco’s lust-filled groan is loud to Harry’s ears, sending a flush of heat through his body.

“Yes.” Draco’s voice sounds just as wrecked as Harry feels, and he wants this, wants to do this with Draco.

Harry’s thought of this before — more times than he’d be willing to admit — but he’s never quite felt up to asking for it. But there’s something about tonight — about seeing Draco splayed out before him, wearing only the lace panties that emboldens Harry.

“Lie down on the bed,” Harry instructs, and when Draco starts to move he adds, “on your stomach.”

Draco turns, climbing onto all fours and _oh, isn’t that a sight to see_. He crawls up the bed his movement rolling and feline; hips tilted up and back towards Harry in a way that’s both enticing and inviting. Draco is normally confident, overly so, but right now, he exudes it. It leaks from his pores in the way he glances back over his shoulder, eyes challenging, expecting. It’s in the way he obviously knows how the fabric covering his hips and the mounds of his arse only serves to accentuate the allure he normally has. Draco takes a moment — and Harry takes it all, exactly like Draco would be expecting him to, before he drops down to the bed, laying his head on his folded arms.

Harry grips Draco’s ankles guiding his legs wider, making enough space for him to fit easily between Draco’s thighs. He kneels on the bed in the newly created space, hands on Draco’s legs as he moves up, stroking over his skin affectionately. Harry loves Draco’s legs, and he traces his hands over them now, over the muscles of his calves and his thighs, until his hands finally reach their destination.

He drifts his hands over the material, feeling the lacey fabric underneath his touch. His fingers sneak underneath, stroking the soft skin of Draco’s arse. With his right hand he strokes along the seam, slipping his thumb under the material at Draco’s hip and moving inwards, towards the inside of his legs. He slips his thumb out from underneath the material to press down where he can just see Draco’s hole through the fabric, eliciting a gasp from Draco as he presses the material against the muscle there.

He wants his lips there now.

“Can you get on your knees?” He asks, bringing his hands back to Draco’s hips and giving a squeeze. Draco does as he’s asked, moving to his hands and knees on the bed.

He wraps his hands around Draco’s hips, gripping tight and digging his thumbs into the muscles there. Harry loves the feel of Draco’s arse beneath his hands, and he takes a moment to just appreciate it, rubbing small circles with his thumbs.

The panties are beautiful, but they’re in his way, blocking his view and access. Harry slips his fingers underneath the material, pulling it to the side. He uses his hold to spread Draco’s cheeks as well, putting his hole on display for Harry.

He whispers a quick cleaning spell, and Draco shudders — although Harry isn’t sure if that’s from the spell or his use of wandless magic — it’s never possible to tell with Draco.

Blowing lightly against the skin, his fingers hold Draco in position when he tries to twitch away. Harry studies the skin there for a moment, before leaning in and licking a long stripe from Draco’s balls to his hole.

Draco makes a noise which can only be described as a whine, and Harry can’t wait to hear it again.

He fingers grip tight, holding onto Draco’s hips firm enough that he’s sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow, little imprints of his fingers from how hard he was gripping. They’ll be a reminder, they will show just how much he wanted this — how much they both wanted it. This time his tongue goes straight to Draco’s hole, licking the skin and probing the muscle. It’s every bit as good as he expected, feeling the heat of Draco against his tongue, the way his hole flutters underneath Harry’s ministrations.

The noises Draco’s making are almost as satisfying to Harry as the feel of Draco quivering under his mouth— the gasps for breath, moans and _whines_ that Harry could listen to all day.

Except he’s not sure his cock could handle that.

Draco’s body twitches and Harry watches as his elbows give out, shoulders and chest slumping down to the mattress. He can still see the slope of Draco’s spine, the the flush of his back and the sweat pooling on his pale skin. The sounds that Draco is making are more muted now, from either his face in the bed or his arms — Harry can’t tell.

He licks Draco harder, thrusting his tongue inside and the whine Draco releases is still loud — even smothered as it is. Harry releases his hold on Draco’s hip and his underwear, and the lacey material rubs against his cheek, trying in vain to return to their position — something Harry doesn’t allow. He snakes his hand around to take hold of Draco’s cock, pulling it free from the underwear as he continues to thrust his tongue into Draco. Draco is so hard underneath his fingers and the groan he releases at Harry’s touch is so loud it borders on indecent. He’s shaking beneath Harry, and it only takes half a dozen strokes before Draco shudders beneath him, releasing a high pitched cry that sounds a lot like _"Harry"_ , and Harry feels him come, hot over his fingertips.

Harry pulls his mouth away, as he strokes Draco through his orgasm, his fingers sliding, stroking until Draco begins to whimper — a sound Harry recognises as Draco’s _‘stop now’_ noise _._

He brings his fingers still covered in Draco’s release to his own cock, gripping tight and jerking himself until he’s coming all over Draco’s arse and the disheveled panties. He paints Draco’s arse with his come, stroking himself through his convulsions until he’s fully spent.

His brain feels fuzzy, and it takes all his energy not to collapse onto Draco. He manages, instead, to face-plant onto the bed beside Draco. The pillow pushes his glasses awkwardly against his nose, so he takes them off, only to shove them under the pillow — out of sight out of mind.

He turns to look at Draco, and even without his glasses he can still see Draco looks spent, hair plastered in sweaty locks against his forehead. Harry’s sure he doesn't look much better, can feel the sweat in his hair and pooling at his back. Harry reaches out with weak hands to shift the hair away, hoping to cool Draco down a little. Draco looks up at him with sleepy eyes and a soft smile that pulls at a place deep inside his chest.

He wants to see that smile more often. He wants to wake up next to that sleepy smile and he wants to fuck Draco again in the morning just to put that smile back on his face.

He breaks the silence to stop himself from blurting out anything stupid.

“So this,” Harry says, and he waves weakly in the direction of Draco’s arse, and the now filthy panties. “Is this a thing you do?”

Enough time passes that when Draco says, “Sometimes,” his voice void of any traceable emotion. Harry knows the words are careful, guarded, and that Draco is feeling sensitive about the topic.

“I like them,” Harry says, and, “I’d like to see them again.”

Draco huffs, turning his head into the pillow, but Harry doesn’t miss the blush on his cheeks, or the way it reaches down to his neck.

“I guess that could be arranged,” Draco’s words are muffled by the pillow.

“I’d like that very much,” Harry repeats.

They’re sweaty, and still covered in fluids, and Harry knows they should shower, or clean up at least. Harry can’t help bring himself to do so, and Draco doesn’t seem interested in moving either, so he ignores it all, slipping his body behind Draco and wrapping his arms tight around him.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN CRYPTO  
> <3 OSIRIS AND ICARUS
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [candybarrnerd](http://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com/) and my husband and partner in crime at [OsirisApollo](https://osirisapollo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> 


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